


Life in Technicolour

by Selenay



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Temporary reluctant allies, but it's more complicated than that, it's always more complicated for these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 04:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17016087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: Eve wanted to kill the woman, but she was relieved Villanelle hadn't died when she'd tried to do it, and how fucked up was she?Really, really fucked up.





	Life in Technicolour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imperfectcircle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectcircle/gifts).



> Thank you to my marvellous beta, (redacted), who made this fic better. All remaining errors are my own (sorry). I loved these prompts and planned to treat them, so imagine my delight when this was my assignment! Thank you :-)

It went like this. 

Supermarkets had too many types of bread and Eve wasn't usually the person who made those decisions. It should be Niko. But he wasn't the person who picked out bread any more so it was Eve's choice, and despite everything, despite the killing and the horror and the fucking insanity of it all, picking out a loaf of bread made Eve think of Villanelle.

She wasn't obsessed. She told herself that every day. All the parts of her life Villanelle had crept into disagreed.

Eve stood in the aisle, debating between Scandalous Seeds and a white and rye sourdough with a name she couldn't pronounce (seriously, who was marketing these things?), and wondered which Villanelle would pick. Probably the scandalous one. Or maybe a classic farmhouse white, simple and straight forward, because it was as different from her as anything could be.

A low voice said, "I'd choose the sourdough."

It was a voice Eve dismissed as a product of her imagination until she caught a glimpse of dark blonde hair out of the corner of her eye. By the time she'd rammed both loaves back on the shelf, Villanelle was gone.

Not far, though. She was waiting outside the shop, leaning against a lamppost, and her entire face brightened when Eve's eyes met hers.

Eve cursed her lack of gun, even though she wouldn't have drawn it in public. Probably.

Villanelle smiled, a suggestive curve of her lips with that terrifying twinkle in her eyes. "Happy to see me?"

And that was the worst part, because Eve was. She hated it, but that was the way it always was with them: Eve wanted to kill the woman, but she was relieved Villanelle hadn't died when she'd tried to do it, and how fucked up was she?

Really, really fucked up.

She fixed Villanelle with the fiercest glare she could manage. "What are you doing here?" 

Villanelle pouted. "Not even a little bit happy?"

Eve bit the inside of her lip. Hard.

Villanelle shrugged and straightened up. "You need to help me."

Eve definitely didn't.

Eve definitely would.

***

It went like this.

Eve ducked behind an overturned metal table as bullets flew overhead, ricocheting off furniture and embedding in the walls with puffs of plaster dust.

She had a moment's longing for the days when being shot at was a new and frightening experience instead of just Tuesday, but it was only a fleeting sensation. Life now was frequently horrifying, often terrifying, and always exhausting, but at least it wasn't boring. 

"You're having fun!"

Eve tried not to wince or roll her eyes. This was the freaky part: she was sheltering from the bullets with Villanelle and, for once, it wasn't because Villanelle had forced her hand or set her up. She'd walked into this beside Villanelle, eyes wide open, and she couldn't make herself feel any regret.

"I'm not having fun," she said, more for form than out of any real conviction. 

She was having fun. That was what Nico had seen long before she could. It would be so much easier if all she felt for Villanelle was hatred and fear, but it had never been that simple between them. Villanelle made her feel alive in a way she'd never experienced before, and a part of Eve was grateful for that, and ashamed, and sad that she'd ever had that revelation.

If she thought about it too much, it made her question her entire life with Nico, and even now she wasn't ready to do that. She might never be.

Villanelle knelt up and fired her weapon over the edge of the table, laughing wildly. "You're having fun, I can tell. You can't lie to me."

More bullets whizzed over their heads as Villanelle ducked down to reload. The motion pressed them together and Eve felt the heat of Villanelle's body against her own, a warmth that made her heart race. It was no accident. Villanelle never did anything without purpose, and the wicked glint in her eye sent a shiver through Eve's body that she wished was fear.

To get away from that knowing look, Eve rose and fired off a few shots of her own. Someone screamed and the room went silent.

The sound of piece of plaster crumbling away from a wall seemed unnaturally loud.

"You shot him!" someone cried.

"You shot him," Villanelle said, sounding impressed.

"I didn't mean to!" Eve risked a peek over their table barrier. A dark puddle was spreading out from behind a plastic barrel. "What happens now?"

Villanelle grinned. "Now they try to kill us."

"What were they doing before?"

"Playing."

"I'm never helping you again."

Villanelle pouted. "Don't you like me?"

Eve couldn't answer that. She could write an essay on her feelings without ever being able to answer that.

"How do we get out of here?"

"We could give this back." Villanelle held up the USB drive they'd stolen. "But I don't think you want to do that, do you?"

"We did come all this way."

Villanelle nodded solemnly. "That is very true. This might be messy."

"Everything is messy around you."

The only reply Eve received was a gentle kiss on her cheek and then there were more bullets flying, more bloody pools, and always Villanelle's terrifying, beautiful smile.

***

It began like this.

Villanelle tasted of chocolate and brandy.

Asleep, she looked innocent. Sweet. Eve could understand how people were taken in by her, because she wasn't what Eve had pictured when she had started hunting the female assassin. She'd expected someone more...James Bond femme fatale, she supposed.

Not a woman who looked fragile and lovely in her sleep. Not a woman who wore her bruises like badges, her scraped knuckles like trophies, and could still inspire people to protect her.

Not a woman who giggled happily when Eve shattered into orgasm, so proud of her accomplishment that it shone out of her with the power of a small star.

Eve propped her head up on her hand and tried to understand how this had happened, how she was lying in a bed that smelled of sex and Villanelle, and the answer didn't appear. Maybe there was no answer.

Maybe everything they had been to each other through the months had made this inevitable. Eve prodded at the unhealed wound of Bill's death, and it was still there, an angry shard lodged in her chest. And yet, the moment she'd pushed the knife into Villanelle's belly, the need for revenge had been washed away with the blood gushing over her hands.

She'd kissed the scar and received an offended snort and a short, incoherent rant about Eve's rudeness in actually going through with the attempt to kill her. It didn't seem to matter that Eve had recanted immediately and tried to help, Villanelle still thought she'd been extremely rude.

Villanelle's accent was always a little stronger when she was annoyed. Eve didn't want to find that endearing.

Eve had kissed her to shut her up and Villanelle had chastised her for that, too, but she'd also shown Eve how to give her an orgasm, so the rudeness apparently wasn't a deal-breaker.

A smile pulled at the corner of Eve's mouth and she allowed it. She'd assumed she'd be crap at sex with a woman, because she hadn't been that good at sex with Nico for a long time, but Villanelle was a patient and generous teacher.

Those were two words Eve had never expected to combine with Villanelle's name.

"Go to sleep," Villanelle muttered.

Eve frowned. "How did you...?"

"I have super powers. Go to sleep, please? We fucked, it was very good, now I'm tired and you're thinking too loudly."

Eve flopped down on the pillow. "I hate you."

"I know." Villanelle wriggled closer and tucked her head against Eve's neck, wrapping her arm around her waist. "Sleep now, think tomorrow."

Eve had absolutely no intention of going to sleep, not with an assassin in her bed and a tangle of contradictory feelings whirling through her mind, and yet...

***

It went on like this.

Eve woke up when a shaft of sunshine slid round far enough to get her in the eyes. She squinted, noting that they'd forgotten to close the curtains tight before they--

She sat bolt upright in bed.

Her trousers were still draped over the back of a chair. Her bra was on the floor. There was a pile of blood-stained cotton wool on the dresser next to a small bowl of water. Apparently exclusive boutique hotels didn't question why their guests arrived bruised and bedraggled, they just provided the means to clean up.

Beside Eve, the bed was cold and empty, but she wasn't surprised.

There was a note on the pillow, though. A note and the USB drive they'd stolen and almost died for.

Eve read the note twice and couldn't stop herself smiling. If she hurried, she could probably catch Villanelle at the airport.

Or she could take her time, eat the breakfast that was going to be delivered in--Eve checked the note--five minutes, and catch a later flight back to London. She still had contacts, the USB drive could do some good, and Eve's breath caught at what it meant that Villanelle had left it for her.

Villanelle had probably made a copy, but that wasn't the point. She trusted Eve to do the right thing with it while Villanelle did the things that nobody wanted to admit needed to be done.

The note wasn't emotional. Villanelle didn't confess her undying love or promise to turn over a new leaf. Villanelle was Villanelle and Eve was Eve.

But Eve knew, without a shadow of doubt, that this wasn't it. Their story together wasn't over yet. She read the note again, folded it up, and began making herself presentable for breakfast. 

Villanelle had ordered all of Eve's favourites, of course.


End file.
